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halloween poetry

dites-moi
dans ma main je me tiens
elle a entendu les enfants jouer au soleil
je me tiens par temps gris froid
ce qui nous fera maintenant
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
pharaoh, roi de la terre de l'Egypte
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
un oiseau a chanté
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux
donc je ne puis pas

 



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